Holmes vs Holmes
by mp22mp22
Summary: When a setup conducted by Mrs Holmes starts a battle of wills between the two of them and Sherlock wins his ultimate ally.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi peps!_

_I am full of stupid ideas, so as you can imagine, this story starts with a very strange one and to tell you the truth, this is different, but don't dismiss it. And by the way I mention Sherrinford Holmes (which is a character that only appears on the notes of Sir Artur but his existance spares a lot of troubles to Mycroft and Sherlock regarding the Holmes' family titles), I also could have go with Siger but I don't need a Sherlock wanna be. And of course Nero, because I actually love the jackass that he is in his own detective stories._

_Enjoy, and you decide if I continue or not. If no one says anything well... I shall try something different... Oh and if you want for better understanding, you guys could read my previous fic. Thanks._

* * *

He had never felt so humiliated in his whole life.

There wasn't anything more uncomfortable than being forced to wait for someone, who was running late, in the middle of a country club tea room filled with a nauseating mix composed of sweet perfumes and perspiration. August had brought the heat with it and yet that didn't mean that the ladies of the upper society could wear anything less proper.

"Sherlock dear, don't divagate." a woman with whom he shared half of his being was gazing at him with a stern look.

It had been her… She was the one to bring him here… Many, such as John, would have a laugh and would remember the occurrence for future reference until the end of his days, however the question laid on the fact that he would never be able to say no to his mother, a characteristic that he was considering at that moment somewhat spiteful considering the actual location.

A date…

His dear old mother had brought him, William Sherlock Scott Holmes to a date, a blind date to be more precise.

It seemed that his mother had reached the age of craving for successors to their family. The inevitable had happened and by some reason that he was not able to fully comprehend, he had been the one, chosen by his mother, to continue their ancient and noble line, as Mycroft had put it. However, a few years ago, even that he nourished a relative amount of affection to that particular woman, he wouldn't care less how she obtained what she wanted, she could steal one of the heirs to the British throne that he would not move a finger.

Nowadays, even his undeveloped sense of guilt would make itself noticeable when he laid eyes on his mother, and all due to a disgraced situation with The Woman. His mother, so fervently searched for a way to pass on her heritage and him, so easily had abandoned its one offspring in the selfish hope that he could regain the life that he had lost with his supposed death. Not that the whole affair had been easy, but she had understood, the Woman could easily relate with him, if she had his chance, she wouldn't look back. And yet, his life wasn't the same, the sentiment had remained had most of days was impossible to suppress. The occurrence in John's weeding had brought her permanent manifestation in his mind place and it was getting more and more exhausting in each attempt to subdue her presence.

And now, his mother had come to him with the preposterous idea that he was in need of a woman in his private life, the same man that had just one serious relationship in his life with a woman and the main reason was that she had borne his child, or at least that was what he told himself.

"Sherlock dear, I am aware that this is not ideal, but just for once trust me. And don't make that face." He could only sneer, how could he trust her when she had placed him such position, why not Mycroft or even Sherrinford for all he cared. But no, it had to be Sherlock. "She is a precious young lady with a wonderful young son."

And there was the reason. The young son. The girl was being played by his mother, which shouldn't surprise him the slightest, however, he found hard to believe that his mother was desperate enough to actually manipulate someone else's emotions to acquire what she wanted.

"A precious young lady, you say… Without a doubt she's not more than a spoiled debutant with a new rich American for a father. Not to mention the fact that, for what you've informed me she's raising a young son on her own, hardly difficult to make a deduction…"

"Sherlock!"

"Mr Holmes, I am afraid that we never had the magnificent pleasure to meet you, Lady Victoria Somerset, the spoiled debutant with the supposed new rich American as a father." Now this, he was not predicting in the slightest. Her true self, as her biological family would say.

"I suppose you know the problem with disguises… It's always a self-portrait."

His mother had committed a mistake of colossal proportions… She had chosen Nero, his son, for a grandchild and consequently The Woman, his woman, for a partner. Now this was getting rather fun, his mother would never know what hit her…

* * *

_Hope that you enjoyed it, there aren't many stories about mommy Holmes and that should be rectified. _

_Review or not...But it's you choice if I continue or not._

_Have a great week people!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Oi peps!_

_I am very glad with the reception that I got and because of that I decided to publish this._

_In this chapter I make allusions to Irene's background and, of course I chose this particular one because it's easier for me to explain why and how she was able to return to England and of course, to help with the psychological characterisation of this particular character. Besides, I found very amusing the idea of Irene trying to somehow manipulate her family and the people with the similar status that she was born with (thus blackmailing the royal family). This Family actually exists in real life, I am just borrowing names and titles, since I have no idea of how they are or what they do._

_Hope you like it, and remember the bigger the response I get, the quicker you get a new chapter._

* * *

Henry Somerset, Marquess of Worcester, had fear for his little sister all his life. Of the five children of Robert Somerset, Duke of Beaufort, Victoria had been the least expected. Born in a time when her presence was seen by many as unrequired or maybe even problematic to the old dukes of Beaufort that had long passed the age for new-borns, at least in their role as parents. However Victoria had been the modal child, with all the requirements of her status and maybe even more, an exceptional child, born and raised in exceptional circumstances.

At the tender age of 14, she was accepted in Oxford with all the honours and festivities proper to a girl such as herself.

And yet Victoria had been different, everyone could see it, especially the ones that she enjoyed, over and over, to undermine. She had realised how different she was, almost since the moment that she could talk. Her parents relived for having such a perfect little girl, her older siblings, in collage or even with families of their own, always bragged about their little sister. Her, well, she quickly discover that sweet talks and bating eyelashes could achieve much more than money or status ever could and of course, that manipulating others always brought a pleasant reinforcement to her own ego.

However, by indiscipline or rebellion often associated to her age, Victoria had left her old life behind.

Elizabeth Austen, that was her new path. A path that would lead to power, power that had been refused to her and all due to the simple circumstance of her time of birth.

"Oh my dear, I am so glad that you have decided to come." Sherlock appeared to be more interested in the clouds rather than the exchange that was happening right in front of him. Better this way, less suspicious if he just ignored her, which was proving to be very hard to do since she was demanding for attention even in his mind palace. And of course, the closeness wasn't helping either.

"Of course Violet, I couldn't keep you two waiting." He had to snort at the comment. In this particular case, he was well aware that the Woman was playing with all that she got. While, in his mother's case he highly doubted that she was conscious of whom she was facing.

"Sherlock stop acting like a child." His mother was reaching a critic point but in other hand she bloody well deserved it. A goddamn date… "I bet that Victoria's son behaves better than you and he is only two." And now he had to supress a marvellous come back with all he had. Nero… The same Nero that found the upmost pleasure in spitting semi masticated food in people's faces, the same Nero who would bring dead insects in his pockets, the same Nero that would scream at the sound of his violin… The world would end if Nero behaved better than him.

"Now, now Violet, Nero is just a boy and we both know that boys will always be boys…" She said with an amused note in her voice. Suddenly Sherlock was much more attentive to the conversation and all due to a singular situation when he had been extremely irresponsible with Nero, at least he had been by her point of view.

"You are completely right dear. Even today my children have an extremely reckless behaviour. You can not even imagine how much I suffer just with Sherlock, without considering his older siblings."

"Oh, but I think I have a pretty go-"

"Mommy shouldn't you be going? To my knowledge, blind dates are hardly the place to have the mother of one of the participants as a moderator between them." Sherlock could see the fire rising in his mother's eyes, the almost unperceptive twitch in her bottom lip, the sudden upper arm movements that were supposed to be contained and especially, the look of distress shot towards the Woman's direction. Obviously, his mother had forgotten to mention the particular rule set of that meeting. And yet the woman had not shown any signal of dread or anything alike towards his mother. No, she had remained elegantly in her site with a playful smile on her lips, patiently waiting for the next move without compromising the discovery of the true nature of their relationship.

"Oh Sherlock don't be a sore player…" The Woman quickly pronounced with a spark in her eyes. For the first time, he was actually analysing her, her moves, had been the ones that he predicted and yet he was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, possibly due to his biological reaction to her proximity and it seemed that his rational part was failing on him once more.

Her hair was moving due to soft breeze that had risen in the middle afternoon, spreading a sweet smell that he always would associate with the woman and it was driving him crazy. Her hair had been straitened, her make up reduced to a simple rouge powder in her cheeks. Her sapphire eyes were analysing his every expression and her pale lips were disposed in a condescending way. God, how much he wanted her right now, not even his rational side could save him from this one since it had been completely overpowered by months and months of trying to subdue her presence in his once peaceful mind place.

"Oh don't worry my dear, I'm afraid that Sherlock does have a point in this case. Please excuse me, I think I seeing some of the girls of my line dancing classes…" And Sherlock's mother still remained completely oblivious regarding the existence of their relationship. Better this way in the long run.

In the moment that his mother was out of sight he quickly signalled the Woman to fallow him. After years and years of being forced to go to public events, finally he was getting something out of it. He had been incapable to refuse anything to his mother, the same could be said for nowadays, but then, he had been incapable of creating some distance between then. And with those visits, it had come the knowledge about every place that his parents or older siblings repeatedly frequented and luckily the architectural plans of those places were still very present in his mind place.

He could swear that he had seen a hint of refusal in her eyes, however with the woman was hard to be certain.

He swiftly took seventeen steps from the place where he previously was sited with the Woman and made an abrupt turn to the door of a secondary ball room that rarely has used by members, visitants or even staff personal. A few seconds later she was there, behind him just like it had happened over had over in the time that they often feared for their lives while dismounting the complex organization that Moriarty had left behind.

In a matter of seconds, the Woman was being pressed against the door by a familiar body. Her pulse was elevating, her pupils dilating and it seemed that his companion was having the same problem, again they had reached a point of need that hardly could be ignored.

"What do you want Woman?" he tried to mimic a tone that he often associated with despise, and yet between their laboured breaths it resembled more an animalistic sound of want. He knew that he was in the border of an edge, and the sentiment in him pried that she would jump right along his side. He was incapable to resist her. With a soft moan, he was leaving his mark in her neck, partly because he knew that she hated it with all her being and his more feral part, hoped to brand her as his.

"Mh, to misbehave…" and she knew exactly how to drive him to desperation.

* * *

_Hope that you enjoyed it!_

_I just love the idea of Sherlock losing all his control...(evil laughter)_

_Review, comment, do what ever you like... :) And remember the bigger the response is, the happier I get and the natural stupidity and inspiration come right along._


	3. Chapter 3

Hello people!

So in this and in the next chapter, the bases of this story are going to be revealed, again I make certain allusions regarding Irene's past. Sherlock is his usual unusual being. Hope that you enjoy it.

I wanted to give a especial thanks to the ones that reviewed this story, fallow it or put it in the middle of your favourite ones. Thank you so much, you guys are a true bless to my not so small ego.

* * *

"_Mh, to misbehave…" and she knew exactly how to drive him to desperation_.

"Good…" not what she was expecting "I have … ahm…a proposition." He mumbled while the air that he was exhaling came in contact with her skin. The hard part was to convince her that being an ally was the best option and he truly hoped that he could use the attraction that they felt for one another against her. Not mention that this was the first time in many months that they laid eyes on each other. And at this moment, unlike all the other times, he did not need an adversary, he could want it but at this time he was focused on the simple fact that his mother needed a lesson and having her play for the wrong side wasn't in his plans.

"I'm all ears…." One of her hands was holding him close with an unexpected strength, while the other was tangled on his hair. In a sudden movement he was able to get himself free of the Woman. He was losing control and he was not even near a position where he could afford it at the moment.

With long, decisive strides he was in the opposite side of the room with a tousled hair and the top three of his shirt's buttons undone. He turned his back to the Woman, maybe it would be easier to negotiate, at least he hoped so.

"Miss Adler, it came to my notice that you have been very very careless when it comes to making new friends…" so this was the game that they were playing at the moment, Sherlock was completely ignoring the events of the last minutes. Two could play the same game, and to a certain point Irene was grateful for the simple fact that she had time to rebuild her barriers. "Not to mention the fact that you should be nowhere near England…"

"Well Mister Holmes, actually is Miss Somerset and besides, what his life without a bit of danger?" the woman made her move by walking to one of the Victorian windows. "Papa wasn´t that happy since I supposedly missed some relatively important events within the family but what can I do… Oh and of course, the whole subject of being a single mother was pretty far of his usual cup of tea but then again we both know that's not quite like that…" she pronounced with a hint of flirt in her voice. In more than twenty years, she had never set a foot in her family's house. Her relationship with any familiar had been extinguished and when she acquired 'friends', their backgrounds were scrutinized to the smallest detail. That was the main reason why she almost never accepted people from similar backgrounds to hers. The only exception that she could remember was the posh little thing that had completely no idea of dramas or problems that were long pass her actual time of interest.

And yet, she had always found a way to be there… In her mother's final breaths, she had been hidden behind a carefully constructed masque. In her nephews' baptisms or in her father's recent marriage in some ways, she was always present.

"Duke Somerset, that was your way in…"

"Well, I truly had hoped to never succumb to papa's assistance again in my life, however it seemed the most reasonable choice, besides Nero is in need of some kind of stability in his life." The accusation in her voice might had been somewhat concealed but when it reached Sherlock's ears, it took a toll on him that he wasn't expecting. Leaving had not been easy, at all, especially when his subcontinent always found ways to associate daily actions or objects to Nero and Irene. "Almost no one was happy to see me, I wonder why…" a sour smile filled the face that he worshiped. He was very aware of how much she blame herself, but if he had learn something in his life was that it was impossible to fight nature, and someone with her nature, in his eyes was one of the most magnificent thinks that could ever exist, but that did not meant that others were able to appreciate it or even understand it. That was probably the reason with the fit together as well as they did, even with the toxic and instable relationship that they had with one another.

"Oh, it seemed to me that at the very least, you strongly resemble a fallen angel in my mother's eyes… And in that fact, it lays my proposition…" she sense that has getting closer, which almost never happened… This was his form of backing up from one of their matchs, he was offering the game in a silver platter. And yet Sherlock Holmes rarely sacrificed things in his life, he never admitted surrender… "Woman, I need you…" he pronounced while he slowly ran his fingertips in the foreigner tissue that composed her summer dress. Now she was the one in the brick of desperation…

"Tell me… tell me more." Her breathing was getting more and more erratic with his smooth touches. And she knew, she knew that she was getting into a path where she would regret on being later, when everything became too much to handle to the both of them.

"Your assistance… it is vital… in this particular matter…" he slowly traced the skin that he could reach, at this point he was starting to consider a dinner invitation… "You see… she thinks that I have to … let's say… acquire some more friends… a friend in particular… a woman… The Woman…" at every breath he took her defences would get lower and lower. But she could not afford it, she wouldn't afford it. If not for her sake, for their child's sake, that was in a tremendous need of a capable mother and not someone that would jump in a rabbit's hole without looking back.

"No…" his lips were yet again pressed against her skin, his little smirk had be obvious to her. The more she refused, the harder it would be to let her go. Sherlock just wanted to be done with this, his mother needed to be stopped. But no, he had to continue, to put an additional strength on his already weakened mind, he had to place his bets on the basic chemistry of the human body.

"Oh but your body is screaming 'yes' Woman…" He should have stopped when he had the chance.

"Of course it is… did you check my pulse?" his laughter reverberated in her bare skin. He wouldn't stop. It was obvious to her that his thin line of control had been surpassed and hers, well she was not that far from him. However, she needed to control him before things got out of hand. But it felt so good… "Sherlock… stop…"

It was marvellous how her body screamed for him, but her mind, that had been his down fall, the more she tried to fight him, to remain control, the more desperate he how get, besides he was more than aware that she was so close to her breaking point.

At this time, he sacrificed a mental battle to win the ultimate war and if he had to succumb to sentiment, so be it. Now, it was a completely different confront. He could have tried reason, but the woman knew too much for her own good. The only possibility was to appeal to their past. This had exceeded the simple fact of teaching his mother, at this point it was their relationship that was in cause.

And as he had predicted, the woman had been defeated.

"Yes…"

Finally she had turn around with fire in her eyes, a light red in her cheek bones and her rumpled summer dress. In a sudden movement, he was the one being pushed against the nearest solid surface and knew that the time of meaningless seducing was long past behind them. And now, the better was to hope that they wouldn't be discovered by any one.

"Sherlock what-" exactly what they needed, _his mother…_

* * *

Yeah, and this is it. Hope that you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Now we are in a crucial point, when things start to get way more real…

If you liked it or not so much, just say what is in your mind. See you when I see you and have a great week. Oh and if you guys might be so kind to fallow me in tumblr, I just have a friend… ( silverish-popcorn . tumblr . com ) and send me awesome stuff about Sherlock and ask me whatever you want...


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello peps!_

_Enjoying life? I am, cause I have a fucked up week ahead of me._

_But I have another chapter for you guys. In this one, we can not count with Irene's presence and yet I think that you will enjoy it. I also mention something that most of my friends found extremely disturbing in the last season and I may have used some of their arguments. And Sherrinford is making his first appearance..._

_I hope that you enjoy and thank you so much for everyone that reviews, is currently following or has me on their favourites. Thank you so much :)_

* * *

"Sherlock is getting married!"

The repercussions of this particular statement in the Holmes dining table were obvious in everyone present in the room. In fact Sherlock seemed to be the one that was more alarmed by his mother's statement. His father had a foolish smile on his face, but then again, he always had that expression when his mother was present. Sherlock never fully understood the relationship that the two of them shared. Then, there was Sherrinford, that was present due to Mycroft's obvious absence, between the two of them, Sherrinford was so much better than Mycroft to contain their mother, however at the moment even him was to disturbed to intervene. And of course, the Watsons had become regulars after his return from after life, John was doing his best impression of a confused goldfish and Mary had a suspicious smirk on her face.

Why had he accepted his mother's invitation?

"Wonderful!" his father was completely helpless.

"Sherlock!?" John had finally come out of the awful trance. It seemed that every pair of eyes in the room where on him. And still, he was unable to understand from where his mother had taken the dreadful idea of marriage. The only time that his mother had seen him in what could be considered a romantic situation, had been in the singular situation in the country club. But even though, he and the woman parted in a cordial manner, especially due to the presence of his mother. And his mother was not sharp enough to reach to the bottom of his relationship with the woman.

"Well, I talked with Victoria…"

_No… _

"… and she was ecstatic to inform me that Sherlock had proposed!"

_No…_

"What!? Sherlock, please tell me that you are not using this girl." Using, god no, she was getting her revenge on his departure, while him and his mother were simple pawns in the woman's hands. Goddamn Woman, she was going to pay… "Because if this is like Janine all over again…. Sherlock your face was plastered in every dreadful newspaper in England."

"For a case, John."

"God Sherlock, you are not even going to try and justify how awfully your treat other people. If you keep in this track, you're not going to be any better than Moriarty…"

The time had stopped. The silverware that Sherrinford had in his right was stopped in mid-air, Mary had a fearful expression and her glass of water was motionless against her lips, while Violet had a sorrowful look and her husband quietly had a hand behind her back in hope that he could comfort her.

The only audible sound was Sherlock's deep breaths. John… In times such as this, he often wondered if it was possible to keep his worst hidden beneath the surface. In his mind place, it was kept locked under more than seven different keys, not even the sentimental part of his mind place was so secured, and probably why the woman was always able to get by. And yet, using people was the type of behaviour that he associated to pre-John Sherlock, to a certain point he could understand John's view, especially after what had happened after the Molly\Moriarty situation. However, a deluded part of him justified his relationship with Janine as a sacrifice for the greater good. No, it couldn't be… He was different, Moriarty had in part served to show how different from each other they actually were.

"I…" John quickly rose from his site and carefully placed his maroon napkin by the shiny silverware in top of the table.

_Mmhh… _

And the awful text message could not have come in a worst time…

"Oh… How disturbing…"

His mother had hastily stated, while the two friends kept staring to one another. And the situation had just gotten worst. From all the days to underestimate John Watson, today was not the day. And of course, this would bring even worst things rather than just a somewhat reckless comment in John's part. Betrayal, complete and absolute betrayal.

"It's for you Sherlock." John was the first to comment, while bitterly waiting for his friend's response. And Sherlock, of course he could turn the tables on John but it seemed to him, at the moment, that his friend's emotion should not be dismissed, not even for his own.

"Sorry, I forgot to turn it off…"

"God Sherlock, I don't think I can even look at you at the moment…" in a sudden movement he was at the door calling for his wife, while Mary threw an apologizing look in Sherlock's direction.

"Marriage uhm… God luck with that brother mine…" Sherrinford's dark mop of hair vanished through the kitchen door and still his mother remained there, gazing at him in a disapproving look.

Now it was surely his fault… Not hers, that had forced him to come… His mother could be so frustrating.

In a shift movement, he took the last Dunhill that he owned from his left shock and left both of his parents in the middle of the dining table.

In one hand, he nervously rolled the Dunhill and in the other, he had a firm grip on his smartphone. In one look, he was able to decode the two simple words that the Woman had sent, and consequently ended the meal to everyone involved.

_Dinner, tonight. IA _

God, with an ally like her, why did he need enemies…

* * *

And there you go...

Actually the whole Sherlock using people never particularly disturbed me in any way, but after watching my two best friends in tears, I have to give them some credit. However, a great part of my careless position results due to the simple fact that I usually don't care about the people who Sherlock uses (especially the goody goodies).

Hope that you liked it, Mrs. Holmes rules and review to share thoughts and ideas with me.

(Before I forget, I will probably change the rating and warn ahead in which chapters there will be more mature scenes). Bye, have a nice week.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello people!

How are you? Sorry I took so much time to update this and I sincerely hope that you guys haven't given up on me yet...

Hope that you like this... This is totally not my type of thing...

_(To new and old readers, warning for mature things ahead)_

The stone roses- Love Spreads (music)

* * *

_Dinner, tonight. IA_

_God, with an ally like her, why did he need enemies…._

He was terribly bored, again.

The dime light that originated from the street lamps was the only thing illuminating the living room. Time had passed and he remained oblivious regarding what to do. The rational part of him was repeatedly being overwhelmed by her. In other hand the sentimental part was even worst.

It was not supposed to be like this.

He was not supposed to feel.

It completely overcame his own view of himself. Of course, it had started with John however his 'sentiments' had acquired epic proportions after her rescue, after her ultimately winning the game, after Nero.

And still, sentiments were still an enemy against the pure reason that he sought for all his life, not only a point of pressure for everyone to see, but also something that was extremely irrational to his old self.

The game had acquired epic proportions and there was nothing that he could do to change it. It never occurred to him how much everything could change in her account.

A breeze made him come out of the trance he was in. A simple breeze could tell him almost anything. For anyone else, he could hear sounds that denunciated their presence almost instantly. With Mrs Hudson, her small and confident steps would be a give-away. In John's case, it very much depended on his mood but every time, his friend would climb the stairs in a somewhat thoughtful way, always waiting to realise if it was completely safe. And then there was Mycroft, who purposely made his presence known by the soft nods on the wood with his umbrella. But the Woman…

The Woman would come in the dead of night, in the moment when his need for her became the greatest. And yet, unlike all the others, she would do as she pleased without his notice, of course the only signals of her presence that he could distinguish were the ones that she chose to leave behind. And the breeze was that one sign that she wanted him to have, without hesitation or notice.

"You are late." He hoped that he could resist. The game was always the same, someone would lose control. The question was who and if the other could ultimately win the game, which rarely happened, since both of them would throw caution way from the equation to begin with. In their particular case, only a couple of time she had won, while he never had been able to resist the trill and addiction towards her. But today, today was his day, or so he hoped.

"So, should we make up for the lost time?" her smell was always the first thing that he noticed with her presence, a mixture of roses a tone of cinnamon and something fresh that he had never been able to identify. Her shiny black Louboutins had been discarded somewhere in the confines of his room, her bare feet touched the floor with precision and confidence.

"What in Earth possessed you to inform my mother of an upcoming marriage, our supposed upcoming marriage." Something in her expression made him pause, that he quickly dismissed as guilt. However, she rapidly guarded her expression with an infuriating smirk.

"Well, you better than anyone, should be aware that your mother is much smarter than the credit that her sons give her for. Besides I agree with her, you need someone beside you."

"Oh, no you don't." her eyes were shining and she had smile that he rarely had seen on her face.

"My thoughts are mine to know… But Sherlock, as a friend-" he snorted at her particular choice of words. They could be a lot of things but friends, was not in that particular list. "Your mother thinks that her actions are for the best, besides she is completely in love with Nero. And as his mother, I don't see any objections regarding my child's relationship with his own grandmother."

"Give her Nero for all I ca-" her hand quickly made contact with his face. These type of comments were the reason why she could win from time to time, he had no sensitivity when it came to these small matters.

There was a dangerous spark on her cobalt eyes, she turn her back on him, in order to fetch her shoes from his bedroom. Before he could even realise, he had jump from his father's chair and had grabbed her by her wrist.

He knew better than anyone than to question her relationship with their son. But his need for control had spoken louder than normal and it had seemed the only way out of that particular match. And yet he had lost again…

"I am sorry." He thoughtfully whispered into the air with a regretful look in his eyes. "I did not… mean to say it." His eyes were pleading for her to not take his commentary personally. In his mind, that type of statement wasn't that far off, but even he was aware that when it came to her relationship with their son, it was completely different.

Her free hand went against his cheek yet again.

In her third attempt to hit him, his body gracefully was able to avoid it by taking a step back. His hand was still firmly holding one of her wrists. He quickly was aware that the cold present in her eyes started to fade away under his gaze. For a moment, just for that moment she has dropping a part of her well-constructed mask. All type of emotions were leaving a trail in her expression.

And the 'sentiment' was catching with the both of them. His breath was becoming more and more laboured, in her case, she tried in vain to somewhat cover hers, while her pupils were more dilated than the existent light requested for and due to the acknowledge that she had made a fatal mistake, there was a redness spreading in her cheeks.

At this moment, he had no patience for games, his ability to ratiocinate was being overcame be her presence and the idea of what it would come next. The dopamine was quickly over flooding his weakened system and there was nothing that he could do against it.

It felt that so much time had passed, while in reality even a few weeks ago he had pinned against a wall, panting for the feel of him. However, it had not been enough, it never was, he sincerely doubted that he would ever pass that point, he always wanted more and more, she had become his own personal drug in their time abroad. A very small part of despised him for that, to given into temptation. And yet, he wouldn't change this situation for anything in the world.

The feel of her was completely breath taking. She had been the one to surrender or so it appeared, however he was well aware that it was just another form of control to her. Her lips clashed violently against his, her hands were quick and assertive, her nails touched his skin with the promise of so much more, and in her eyes he could see the need for vengeance due to his stupid statement.

Suddenly she was pressing him to the table in the corner of his living room, the same table where she had promise to have him and beg for mercy twice. In his current state, he wondered if she would be able to make him beg. His first answer would be an assertive denial and yet, even with his thirst for vengeance after the marriage business, he didn't know how much he could take.

The next step was his, she could not win, not that night.

His face was a couple of centimetres from hers but the energy between them was still electrifying. The composed and confident posture that she had showed a couple of minutes earlier had nothing to do with the sexual and aggressive one that she had at the moment. Sherlock was aware of how this would probably turn out for him.

They both when each other better than anyone, however there was also space for improvisation and improbabilities. She all had the capacity to make him question everything that he though he knew about her and today it wasn't different.

In a shift motion, his hands were tied by his own black belt. Her breath was laboured and he could feel her heart beat in the points where they were connected skin to skin. And then she took a step back to admire him in the moon light. His hair was ruffled, his chest had pink marks left by her nails and the only thing that she could was appreciate the moment. During their life together she rarely had the upper hand, the always would be equal but sometimes someone would win and unfortunately for Sherlock, is commentary was his down fall.

With a smile, she started to trace his body, at first a soft kiss in the corner of his lips or a simple bite here and there but truth be told abstinence was not something that fit that well with her, and after his departure there hadn't been anyone else. No for lack of opportunities, but she truly doubt that there was anyone in the world that she could compare to Sherlock. Her kisses became more aggressive and he couldn't even reach her.

The woman was losing control in the middle of mumbles, moans and heavy breathing.

"Release me at once!" she had a wicked smile on her face, just as the predicted, she was in a good way to make him beg. With a confident and mischievous look, she slowly move her hips against his, winning a groan in return. The next time, he met her half way, meeting a disapproving gaze in the woman's face. Her hand slowly drew a path to the shiny button of his pants, while pressing her palm into his arousal. "Mhh… God…"

"Never took you for a believer…" an isse was in only capable response. "Shh darling… I doubt that you want to be found in such position."

"You… you wouldn't…"

"Just try me…" while pronouncing her last word, he was quick enough to be able to reverse their position, even with the disadvantage of having his hands tied. "Sherlock… Careful…"

"We never… were…" she was driving him mad. Her skin always had tasted heavenly, the feeling of her next to him was almost too great to handle, his animal side had just snapped, he needed more… So much more… He was biting every bit of skin that he had access between her neck and collar bone. And she was just moaning against him, giving him more access at every nibble.

And yet, he was aware that she could recover her upper hand at any moment. At this point, his constricted reasoning only was focused on two simple things, getting free and then make her pay for this, for that he needed her as much entertained was possible.

But unfortunately for him, she was faster… In a moment, he was having his way with her and in the next he was being pressed, yet again, against the same goddamn table. The woman had gradually undid his button with her long fingers, and dropped gracefully, with a condescending smile, into her knees.

With feather touches, she traced the mark that the margin of his pants had left behind, followed by messy kisses. He could only feel her breath and her strong gaze that she had on him.

In an excruciating pace, she touched the border of his Calvin Klein boxer-briefs with a wicked smile on her face. She was well aware of how desperate he was for some kind of realise, but today it her victory, her control. And yet the biggest problem was that, she never had been able to resist to Sherlock for long.

"Irene…" his mind had gone blank in the moment that she took him in her hands. His pulse was through the roof, his muscles tensed and he could not recon anything but her, the feeling of her hands and her rapid breath.

She was having too much fun for own his good. And he, well, he was more than doomed.

* * *

Oh poor Sherlock... Hope that you enjoyed this one and please please, just REVIEW! (I am very insecure about this one...)

Have a nice week!


End file.
